Toujours Pur
by Helenia Rowan
Summary: As the argument over blood purity rages, and house feuds smolder at Hogwarts, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black concentrate on their own survival and the taking of their freedom. Bella will grow into Voldemort's right-hand woman, and Cissy into the perfect pureblood witch. But for now, during their school years, they are united. (Lucissa and Bellamort. No incest! Very slight AU.)
1. Letters

Toujours Pur

By Helenia Rowan

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, etc. do not belong to us, we are co-authoring this story. Read this and memorize it, we are only posting this disclaimer once. Ms. Rowling can sue us if she is not satisfied, but we have not sued her for making unrealistic boundaries between black and white, good and evil, light and dark. We are quite anticipatory of that shouting match if it comes to it. Leave your comments, or don't, we write for our own pleasure, not your approval. Feel free to flame, there is no roasting marshmallows without a bit of fire.

-Helenia Rowan-

I: Letters

Bellatrix Black was a pureblood born to privilige, brought up from a screaming babe in arms to an aristocratic shadow with fire in her eyes and darkness in her soul. Magic flowed through her veins, and it was obvious from a young age that once she'd been trained up a bit, she would really be something. All her life, Bellatrix had waited for that certain letter, waited with her breath held so long, her lips turned blue.

The sunny afternoon on which the letter arrived should have been the best of her life, but it wasn't.

The owl had dropped it at the threshold, and a house-elf (who's name didn't matter) left it in the little glass dish on the hall table. Bellatrix was up first, so she went to get it. It was the only thing in the dish, with the etchings of seven little serpents around the rim. She turned it over in her hand, as though it might not be real.

She remembered the spring day, seven years ago, when her favorite sister, Narcissa, was born. Nothing special really, just one infant, no different from others, but it would be Druella Rosier's last. Druella said, weeping bitterly into the shoulder of Mrs. Emelyne Malfoy's lace dress, "I'm finished. I'll never give him a son and… Oh God, what's he going to do?", he being Cygnus Black, her husband and patriarch of the Black family. The exchange meant nothing to Bellatrix then, and hadn't for two years after. She'd finally put two-and-two together when her mother covertly laid that little lump of unmoving, uncaring flesh in the fire, and she wept until it was nothing but ash there.

Bellatrix had used her mother's distraction that day to examine her sister. The baby lay small and still in the little cradle, and Bellatrix leaned forward on her toes to see more details. Was the baby dead? No. There was her chest, rising and falling evenly, so she was asleep then. And she really was tiny, much smaller than Andromeda had been. And so, a four-year-old girl decided that she was going to take over the world, and when the baby grew up, there'd be no more scars made by lashing whips of energy flowing from wandtips, no more rules, no more looking at Druella Rosier's smug, disdainful pig-face.

And now, Bellatrix thought, she'd have to leave the baby, who had since then grown to be her favorite sister and partner-in-crime, alone with Andromeda and when Andromeda left, it would just be Narcissa and their mother alone.

The question was, what could be done? She could try and hide the letter, but eventually, someone would find it; besides, if whoever had sent the letters from Hogwarts thought they weren't being received, more would come. No, that was not the way to go.

Narcissa was slim and petite, maybe she could fit in her sister's trunk? But that would be cruel, cramping her in there for hours on end while Bellatrix sat serenely in the train compartment.

There was nothing for it, and now everyone was getting up.

Bellatrix went to her bedroom and pulled one of Mother's favorite dresses about her thin frame, brushing and braiding her thick ebony hair, pulling it up into the neat little knot Father preferred she wear. She rubbed in a bit of the perfume she'd stolen from Mother, touched the bare silver chain at her neck for luck, and floated down the stairs, drifting serenely as though she were a princess in a castle, as happy as you please.

She entered the breakfast room to see Narcissa already seated at the mahogany table. Bellatrix could hear her mother ordering house-elves about in the kitchen, while Cygnus and Andromeda had yet to show themselves.

"Good morning." Bellatrix greeted her sister, sitting in a chair opposite and hiding the letter under the table, slightly in the folds of her skirt.

Narcissa turned up her lips in a small smile, wincing as she shifted slightly.

Bellatrix clenched her hands with ferocious rage. He would pay. She imagined her father's lifeless body, crimson blood staining everything he held dear; his alcohol, his money, and his next shag. A cold,ugly smirk twisted her features as she pictured her father choking to death on his beloved vodka, excess streaming from his mouth as he gurgled it, coughed around it, silently cursed her name, died knowing that there'd been special poison there, direct from his daughters.

"Where?" was all she asked, pointing at Narcissa, trying to control her expression. In reassurring someone, it was best not to frighten them.

The seven-year-old girl shook her head, pointing to where Druella, Cygnus and Andromeda were converging in the doorway, Druella from the kitchen and the other two from upstairs. Bellatrix gave Narcissa a look that clearly read 'this isn't over', before flashing the rest of her family a frigid smile.

"Good morning Mother, good morning Father."

"Good morning, Bellatrix," Cygnus intoned boredly. Druella ignored her eldest daughter, instead glaring at Narcissa. With a swish and flick of her wand, Druella forced Narcissa's long blonde tresses into a tight bun, and with a muttered charm, conjured a bit of thin golden cord to tie it there. Narcissa knew better than to complain, but as everyone sat down at the table, Bellatrix glimpsed her sister pouring disillusioned salt into their mother's tea. She smiled, almost imperceptably, but quickly hid the expression by contemplating her own tea, and her father's which was always doctored with a bit of the vodka the house-elves knew must always be on the table.

As the house-elves laid out fruit and breakfast pastries, Druella pinned Bellatrix with her ice-blue gaze.

"Your Hogwarts letter should have arrived today," Cygnus said from the head of the table, cutting off whatever his wife was going to say and leaving her with mouth open to shape the words and hands clenched beneath the table.

"Yes, Father," Bellatrix replied morosely, laying the letter, and her palms, flat on the tabletop, staring her father down.

"But I don't want to go," she added defiantly, glaring daggers at her parentts, all resignation gone from her face and her voice. She was all fight now: her eyes glowed with it, her shoulders were tense with it and she rested just the balls of her feet on the floor, as though she were about to spring on him.

Cygnus set down his silver fork, all emotions deleting themselves from his face, his eyes two dark stones in his head. Druella's face crumpled into an expression of shocked anger and Andromeda, still half-asleep, looked wide-eyed with fear at her sister. She didn't want to look toward Narcissa, it was better she didn't know what would be seen there.

"Bellatrix, darling," Druella said in her cold tinkle of a voice, "come with me, dear. Your father and I would like a word."

Bellatrix rose from the table, flashing Narcissa a small smile, as if to say that it was all going to turn out all right and she'd fight this time. But she'd promised herself that every time, and every time she'd caved before the unstopable force that was the wand of Cygnus Black. (Druella liked to watch, and to echo the curses her husband threw at her.)

Stepping out into the hall, Bellatrix followed at a safe distance behind her mother and her torturer. She didn't need to look to see where they were going. Her feet had trodden the path to their destination many a time, and her mind tried to block everything out. As they reached the drawing room, Bellatrix had no time to blink, before a silent Reducto shattered the bones in her right arm. She bit her lip but a whimper escaped.

"YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO DEFY ME AND IN PUBLIC?" Cygnus roared, pacing before his daughter. "YOU, of all people, know my stance on disobedient women."

Spittle flew from his lips as Cygnus raged, back-handing his daughter across the face. Bellatrix was vaguely aware of Druella slamming the oak door as she fell to the floor, but no locking charm was heard.

"You are attending Hogwarts. And tomorrow, Bellatrix," Druella intoned icily, "we're going to Diagon Alley and buying your things. And while we're there, you're going to be polite and you're going to smile nicely and you will only speak when spoken to as a woman should."

Bellatrix glared through her paiin, defiance still evident on her face.

"No," she hissed, voice saturated with venomous hatred.

The kick threw Bellatrix across the polished marble floor. Stars swam in her vision as her head collided with a stone pillar.

"Enough of this nonsense," Cygnus roared, "Crucio!"

Needles of acidic fire scorched throughout Bellatrix's supine form. She screamed, bloodcurdling shrieks of agony echoing throughout the drawing room. He was connected to the Minister himself, he could do this but… Oh God! did this hurt! After what felt like eternity, the curse was lifted. Tremors racked her body and the salty evidence of her weakness stained her face, but Bellatrix managed to glare through it.

Cygnus's visage became purple with fury, and Druella's hand tightened on her wand. Their daughter was proving more difficult by the year, the bouts of this kind of defiance growing more common by the day and if the girl was not beaten into submission, cursed into subserviance, then she'd be a dishonor and a shameful little hole on Aunt Walburga's tapestry.

"Crucio! Crucio! Cruci-"

Cygnus and Druella were interrupted when the door flew open. Bellatrix tried to stand but her trembling was too great. In ran Narcissa, soaked from head to toe in tea and pumpkin juice. Her long blonde hair had been released from their bun and were sodden with cream and egg whites, and her white dress was positively destroyed, stained with red pomegranate and grape.

"Cissy, no," Bellatrix croaked, gathering her strength and springing to her feet.

They'd turn on her now, Bellatrix knew, and they'd do the same to their youngest daughter as they did to their eldest. Narcissa glanced atBellatrix, her expression determined, but her blue eyes, so alike Druella's swam with unshed tears.

Cursing and wailing in pain, Bellatrix reached for her sister's hand and pulled her from the drawing room, down the hall, through the servants' entrance and into the garden.

She collapsed on the cool grass clutching her right arm, and cried.

"Bella?" Narcissa's voice trembled but the little girl stroked Bellatrix's forehead. "I had to, Bella they were hurting you!"

Bellatrix gripped Narcissa's hand as if it were her life line. She stared into her younger sister's face, blue eyes meeting onyx. Even covered with food and drink, Narcissa was beautiful.

"Bella, go to Hogwarts so you can learn magic and free us." Narcissa's voice quavered with repressed sobs. "You'll send me letters, and little chocolate treats because Mother says I'm fat and can't have any, and pictures, and-" Tears slid, unbidden, down Narcissa's pale cheeks as she gingerly embraced her sister.

Bellatrix winced but heldher all the same.

"I'll send you whatever you want, Mother be damned," Bellatrix swore.

She knew that Narcissa was still to be punished, although she also knew her parents would wait until Bellatrix was gone to do so. Tomorrow, Bellatrix would get her school things, and in a few more days, attend Hogwarts to achieve her education, and their freedom. She would make their parents regret every hex, every kick, every insult. She would make them regret their lives and the conception of their daughters. And she would seal that promise with the Unbreakable Vow, once she got her wand and figured out precisely how one cast the thing.

The next few days passed in a blur of packing and purchasing and silent crying in the dead of night. Her wand stayed with her, either beneath her dress or under her pillow.

Bellatrix had seen the Unbreakable Vow performed once before, but there was no allusion to it in any of her textbooks. But she was quite good at making sparks fly from her wandtip, and so, on the night before she was due to leave, when everyone was sleeping, Bellatrix crept to the garden and sent a stream of golden sparks into the branches of a tree, setting it ablaze. She stood aside and watched the flames writhe, monstrous creations of orange and yellow and blue and white, until the sun was rising and the tree was in smoldering ruin. Then, she ran inside and washed the evidence of her discretion away and sullenly traveled to King's Cross, and reluctantly boarded the train.

She stood up in the train compartment, populated by a few other students, and pressed her right hand to the windowpane in a wave to Narcissa, whose face was carefully blank. She smirked defiantly at her parents, all the while holding her wand in a combatative way in case her parents tried anything with her sisters. Years later, both Death Eaters and Order members alike would know this stance as the one she takes on when dueling. Even then, when the girl was no more than eleven, Cygnus looked disconcerted and Druella paled almost imperceptably. And far away, although he didn't know why, a snake-like man was smiling.


	2. Reputation

Toujours Pur

A/N: If reading honestly portrayed Marauders sickens you, this story may cause migraines, nausea, cataplexy, and/or fever-enduced hallucinations, depending on the severity of your condition. Read at your own discretion.

And although we originally said this story would be completely canon-compliant, we changed our minds. We are creatures of inconsistency, devotees of spontaneousness and completely ruled by our whims. This story will, however, be mostly canon-compliant, as we are only changing a few minuscule details. If little purmosefully-made mistakes bother you, this story may trigger panic-enduced comas, seisures, a slight aching of hands and feet and in rare cases, death has occurred, brought about by a severe heart-attack.

-Helenia Rowan-

II: Reputation

Outside the walls of Black Manor, Narcissa Black was the epitome of pureblood nobility. She was slender, petite and delicate, with long blonde hair, icy-blue eyes, and flawlessly smooth, pale skin-at least, glamours made it appear so. But like her sister Bellatrix, Narcissa lacked one trait, subservience. Unlike Bellatrix however, Narcissa waited. Where her sister retorted with defiantly vituperative soliloquies and quick fiery temper, Narcissa handed out compliments, woven of double-edged malice and icily sweet tones. These she coupled with stony, frigid silence. She had received many a Crucio and almost every bone in her body had been broken at least once, but she refused to relinquish her will. If Bellatrix could fight, Narcissa knew that she could as well.

Narcissa had been practically catatonic after Bellatrix was carried away on the scarlet Hogwarts Express. She'd stopped eating, for which Druella was immensely pleased. But she'd also stopped practicing piano, dance, and all other means of etiquette a pureblood trophy wife was expected to embody, not that she was remotely inclined to be any such thing. It had taken Cygnus carving the words "useless prissy bitch" into the flesh of her chest with a white-hot silver dagger, before Narcissa began functioning again albeit filled with bitter loathing. She hadn't told Bellatrix, for her eldest sister would surely murder their parents there and then, and Andromeda was too scared to say anything; the middle child would not even utter words of comfort. The scars still remained engraved into Narcissa's flesh, Druella and Cygnus refused to even attempt erasing them, stating, "That is your lesson Narcissa, I'm sure you will be able to explain them to your future husband."

When Andromeda had left for Hogwarts, Narcissa was the soul victim of Druella's displeasure and Cygnus's drunken rage. Although, Cygnus was just as violent while stone sober; Narcissa learned to skulk through shadows and tread lightly.

As months passed, Narcissa hated Andromeda more and more; said girl always returned with boistrous retellings of pranks pulled by the Marauders, a Hogwarts gang made up of four raucous Gryffindors including their cousin, Sirius, and how many Slytherins she'd made cry. Bellatrix however, always embraced Narcissa first, slipping the girl pieces of chocolate. Then she'd look Narcissa over, and Narcissa would cringe, because she knew that her sister could probably see through the glamours Druella had erected. As Andromeda grew older, Narcissa was practically non-existent compared to Sirius and the Marauders; it seemed as though Andromeda didn't spare her a thought. But Bellatrix never forgot Narcissa's birthday, however, and always spent time with her youngest sister when she was home from school.

When Narcissa's Hogwarts letter arrived, it was Bellatrix who found it first.

"Cissy," the now fifteen-year-old girl whispered, creeping into Narcissa's bedroom and gently shaking her awake.

"It's over," she murmured, holding out the letter.

Bellatrix smiled for the both of them as Narcissa grasped the letter in trembling hands. She moved to shut the door so her sister could open it in peace, and took a glance in the mirror. Whereas glamour only accentuated Narcissa's natural ethereality, all it did for Bellatrix was make her look mean and sinister. Her skin was pale, almost bone-white, but her hair and eyes were as dark as it was possible for hair and eyes to be. And her hair didn't even curl pleasantly, Bellatrix thought she could live with the color if it did that; it just hung down her back in a river of midnight.

Narcissa met her sister's gaze in the mirror and smiled serenely. Right then, she looked every bit the pureblood aristocrat she was brought up to be, eyes cold and cutting, blonde hair flowing just so. Even without glamours to conceal her scars, Narcissa Black was truly an exquisitely carved statue of picturesque elegance. Together, she and Bellatrix would have the whole world in their fiery, icy clutches.

When the sun rose, Narcissa donned a sleeveless ankle-length gown of pale-blue gossamer silk, the sort of dress Bellatrix would never touch. With the help of her sister, she brushed her curtains of blonde tresses into a waist-length sheet of gold. She fastened the carving of a silver serpent about her slender neck (a gift from Bellatrix), gathered up her Hogwarts letter, and swept down the staircase. The rest of the family was already seated as Bellatrix and Narcissa took their respective places.

"Hello girls," Druella greeted with a saccharine smile.

Cygnus put down his newspaper.

"You received your letter." The patriarch spoke in a flat monotone, dark eyes boring into Narcissa.

"I did," Narcissa replied emotionlessly, while excitement simmered just beneath the surface.

Andromeda groaned dramatically, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Don't even think about hanging with my friends and I, Prissy," Andromeda sneered. "I don't want your pureblood Death Eater self tainting them."

Druella pressed her lips together in a thin line of disapproval, and Cygnus nearly shattered his teacup with the force his grip exhibited. But they had given up on Andromeda long ago.

Narcissa's face remained icily impassive as she spoke:

"I am so proud of you, Andi, for managing to utter such garrulous prattle without choking on the hypocrisy spewing forth from those ever so divine lips you possess. I suppose your stunted maturity has caused you to believe Gryffindor means Holy. And tell me dear sister, have you sold your virginity off to that Mudblood yet?"

The line of Druella's pursed lips grew thinner. Cygnus glared, saying crossly, "That's enough Andromeda."

Bellatrix smirked at Andromeda who glared furiously.

Druella sent a cutting hex at Narcissa, but said girl visibly betrayed nothing, instead reaching for a strawberry tart.

"Narcissa!" Druella bit out harshly.

Narcissa's eyes flashed, ice-blue pools of frigid difiance staring at Druella, unblinking. She lifted the pastry to her lips, but Druella's hand shot out, closing around Narcissa's slim wrist with talon-like nails.

"Take one bite, and I reak every bone in your hand," Druella hissed. "Bellatrix is simply psychotic, and Andromeda is a Mudblood loving Blood Traitor. I'll not have you disgracing our family further Narcissa, no man wants a fat cow for a wife."

Narcissa's angry retort was cut off when the fireplace flared to life and a house-elf announced the arrival of Abraxas Malfoy. Cygnus swore, and Druella gave Narcissa a look that promised retribution, before both parents stood and left to greet their guest.

Andromeda sent Narcissa a smug, disdainful sneer so like Druella's and muttered "fat cow" under her breath, mocking Narcissa with degradingly crass hand gestures, eyes looking pointedly down to Narcissa's flat stomach and thin waist.

Tears sprang to Narcissa's eyes. What if Andromeda and Mother were right? Was she truly a fat cow, too difiant and ugly for a man? Bellatrix glared.

Narcissa stood, glaring at Andromeda with a look that could freeze fire as shame flooded her features. Then, she stormed out of the breakfast room, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. After closing the dor with a soft click that belied her bitter anger, she allowed sobs to rack her thin frame. Her Hogwarts letter lay abandoned on the table, forgotten.

"HOW DARE YOU MENTION THAT. OF ALL THINGS TO Mention AND YOU PICK THAT!"

Narcissa heard Bellatrix yell at the top of her voice. Then, she heard a thud, as though Bellatrix were shoving Andromeda against a wall.

"What do you mean? Stop it, Bella, this hurts," Andromeda whined, probably trying to pull free of Bellatrix's nails, the pressing of her pointed elbows, the general weight (which wasn't much), pinning Andromeda into the wood panelling. "And I wasn't trying to hurt her, honest, I just wanted to have some fun, honest…"

Narcissa composed herself and crept to the top of the stairs to watch, and sure enough, there was Bellatrix, twisting Andromeda's pale arms.

"Bella-" Andromeda started again, but Bellatrix cut her off.

"No," she hissed venomously, "you lost the right to call me Bella years ago. Look at our sister one night, when Mother takes off all that glamour. Just look, Andromeda, and when you do, tell me why a man wouldn't want her. It's not because she'll be fat, oh no, she was always going to be pretty, it's because she's scarred and Mother is too damn proud to remove her and Father's handy-work. But I'm going to get her out of here. I will NOT let Mother or Father ruin her chances of a good life. And you won't make my job harder by bringing up Death Eaters, will you, Andromeda?" Bellatrix's voice took on the almost flirtatious tones it did at most of the balls Mother made the girls attend, but her expression was flirtation's polar opposite. Her face was contorted with anger and hate.

"Bellatrix, have you joined?" Andromeda asked timidly, once her sister let her go.

"Course not," Bellatrix replied, curling her lip in disgust, "Avery smells, Rabastan Lestrange is cruel and Rodolphus is stupid. Why would I want to be seen with them?"

Andromeda looked like she was going to say more, but Abraxas Malfoy stepped back into the room, adjusting his cloak about his shoulders, and Andromeda was forced to be quiet and polite, retreating to a corner.

Narcissa descended the stairs smoothly, wearing a mask of polite hospitality as she entered the room and dipped a graceful curtsy to the Malfoy patriarch. Then, she lifted one of Abraxas's hands and bestowed his palm a feather-light kiss. Abraxas gave her a genuine smile, and Narcissa's chest contorted with longing. She wished Cygnus had given her that look, wished that this Abraxas Malfoy were her father even though she'd just met him.

Dinner had been a strained affair. After Abraxas had finished his business with Cygnus and Druella, he departed via portkey. Cygnus locked himself in his study, tipping back vodka, after whisky, after gin, after cognac. Andromeda went off to her bedroom to owl Sirius and sulk, and Druella escorted Narcissa out of the house and to Diagon Alley. Bellatrix insisted on coming, but Druella used her wand to shut and lock the door. Bellatrix screamed death threats as Druella apparated herself and Narcissa away.

The two materialized outside the Leaky Cauldron, Druella clinging to Narcissa's arm so as to keep her tethered, so as to keep her from tumbling off into that unknowable void of nothingness one traveled through when apparating. Turning her daughter roughly to face her, Druella pointed her wand. Her hand was steady, wandtip aimed first at Narcissa's hair, and then moving slowly down her body, as though the wand were a Secrecy Scensor. As she moved the wand, she muttered the spell for Glamour, wrasping Narcissa in an elusion of exquisite elegance. Every scar appeared gone, as though it had never been there.

"Do not shame me," Druella seethed dangerously, her eyes holding a promise of pain. "or I swear I'll slit you open and see what's inside."

With a hand of steel, Druella steered Narcissa through the dingy pub, and into Diagon Alley after tapping the appropriate bricks with her wand. She deposited Narcissa in front of the nearest shop, Flourish & Blots. Narcissa moved her feet obediently, as resisting Druella's ministrations was futile.

"Find your books while I go into Knockturn to get a few things. I want you waiting here in one hour to buy your robes and such," Druella ordered coldly, forcing the Hogwarts shopping list into Narcissa's hand, along with a small pouch of gold. Without waiting for a response, Druella turned on her heel and glided down the winding street.

Narcissa held her head high as she swept into Flourish & Blots, coldly examining the shelves weighed down with books around her. She hadn't taken more than ten paces, however, when four of the last people she wanted to see strode into view. The Marauders, who'd been loudly and colloquially making fun of Severus Snape and then Bellatrix, repeatedly stating that they were "such filthy Death Eating pachydermic scum" (to put it cleanly, and in much more sophisticated language.) The four third-year boys stopped when they caught sight of Narcissa, except James Potter, who hadn't yet noticed.

"They probably eat a lot more than just death," James announced snidely, "I'll have to ask Bellabitch or Snivellus what prostituting for the Lord feels like. Unless they are his whores and do it for free-" James ran into Sirius's back and looked up, staring into the face of Narcissa Black, who wore an expression so similar to her sister's, that although they looked different, it wasn't hard to tell who she was.

Peter Pettigrew snickered, leaning in to whisper, "You're wrecked," into the ear of his friend.

Narcissa glided forward, icy rage emanating from her being, slender body poised, arms held in a deceptively calm manner.

James laughed. "What, are you gonna fight us?"

"James…" Peter said, unsure, "Come off it. That's Bellabitch's sister. Remember what Bellabitch said she'd do to you if you had anything to do with her?"

James laughed. "Bellabitch won't do anything," he said confidently, then turned to Narcissa, a challenge in his voice when he asked, "will she?"

"It shouldn't be that surprising," Narcissa murmured as if to herself, "that such filthy traitors never learned the proper use of language and grammar."

James took a menacing step forward, drawing his wand as he did so. Sirius stepped up next to his friend, sneering at Narcissa.

"Go on home Cissy, you wouldn't want to be seen and thrown into Azkaban," Sirius jeered at his cousin. "You might be mistaken for a Death Eater, or are you just a whore?"

Narcissa's eyes flashed.

"I am Narcissa to you, you've lost the right to address me with any name," she stated coldly, "you and Andromeda both." Narcissa flicked her eyes toward James contemptuously. "And sweetheart," Narcissa simpered in a voice dripping with poisoned honey, "gonna, isn't a word."

Remus turned his attention to a shelf of books, hiding his smirk.

"You're one to speak you filthy" James began but Narcissa cut him off.

"Filthy rich, properly raised pureblood maiden?" Narcissa asked rhetorically. "Accept darling," she added condescendingly, "It would be filthily rich. Do learn to conjugate, your atrocious grammar and redundant insults are quite unbecoming."

That was the last straw. James shoved his wand forward, a spell on his lips. How dare this little Death Eating wench! He hated her, she was a pureblood prissy who got all mad and bratty and spoiled and fat and… James could count every one of her ribs. But it was probably just a spell, he consoled himself, looking for any excuse to his behavior.

Quick as a viver, Narcissa's slim hand wrapped around James's wrist, nimble fingers squezzing, sharp nails digging into the indentations underneath one of his veins. With an undignified squawk, James relinquished hold of his wand to her. She turned it on him, holding the wand almost casually, as if she did this sort of thing every day of her life.

Sirius and Peter drew their wands, and as quickly and quietly as a shadow, Remus took their schoolbooks and went to pay for them without a word.

"You don't know what to do with that, bitch!" Peter Pettigrew exclaimed, staring Narcissa down with his small, watery eyes.

"If you want a bitch," Narcissa hissed, "why don't you pay Hagrid's dog a visit, Bella has told me all about Fang. It shouldn't really be a problem, the male genitalia."

"Finite!" Sirius yelled the first spell that came to mind. A smirk split his face as he imagined pimples and warts being revealed, wrinkly skin, flabby cheeks…

Panic flashed across Narcissa's face, and James's wand must have felt it. A volley of green and silver sparks issued forth from James's wandtip, showering over the Marauders and a few flying into one of James's eyes. Narcissa dropped the wand, trying to keep her composure as Sirius's spell tore at her glamours, revealing the scars that crisscrossed her skin.

And it wouldn't do to be seen like that, Narcissa thought, so dropping the wand, she did the only thing that felt natural to her. She ran until she reached the wand shop, Olivanders. She could start her shopping there, anyway. Icy fear coursed through her veins as she imagined Druella finding her in this state, the glamours she worked so hard to maintain in tatters. She bit her lip and forced herself to walk into the shop with head held high and face blanked of all emotions.


	3. Bellabitch and Narcissus

Toujours Pur

A/n: Half of this chapter is spells, and for that we do apologize, though not so sincerely. We have done research to those who may think otherwise, these incantations can be found on Harry Potter Wiki and . Please, don't curse anyone important. If you really want to commit murder, at least be a Slytherin about it. Maybe poison, it's not as easily traceable.

-Helenia Rowan-

III: Bellabitch and Narcissus

They were late, and Bellatrix was cross. As most people are aware, that is not a good combination, Bellatrix and crossness. The train would be leaving at eleven, and yet it was ten-forty-five and Druella was still fussing with Narcissa's hair.

The trunks sat at the bottom of the stairs, and Andromeda paced around them.

"You know staying still for a moment won't kill you." Bellatrix sighed, regarding her sister coldly.

"You know being nice won't kill you." Andromeda retorted with a curl of her lip.

"It might," Bella shot back with a wicked smile, "it just might."

"Bellatrix." It was Druella, calling from the open doorway of the drawing room.

Reluctantly, Bellatrix went to her, head held high, a cold defiant smirk playing at her mouth.

Druella was quick. Her hand lashed out, nails digging into the pale skin of Bellatrix's wrist. In her other hand, she clenched her wand as though it was a lifeline, and she was a drowning sailor. Bellatrix was aware of her own wand, the smooth curve of it positioned around her shoulder, hidden beneath her dress. She wanted to reach for it. The almost animalistic fear that her mother brought about was turning her blood to fire. Her heart was beating fast, as though it were a caged bird trying to fly away.

But she didn't, couldn't, show Druella how she felt. All she said, in her most calmly dangerous tone was: "Yes Mother?"

Druella's ice-blue eyes stayed cold and unreadable. Bellatrix held back the shivver that wanted to rack her spine. She imagined Narcissa, the only one of the daughters with Druella's eyes, looking so like Druella in fits of temper.

"You will keep Narcissa in line," Druella stated flatly, although the "or else" was clearly implied. "I understand your problems with Andromeda" Druella continued, "but Narcissa looks up to you. Control her, if she steps out of line, you will suffer."

Druella reached into the folds of her dress and produced a crystal vial, forcing it into Bellatrix's hand.

"If the Cruciatus Curse is not enough incentive," Druella said by way of explanation. She glared at Bellatrix. "Fail me, and both Narcissa and yourself will become unrecognizable."

Narcissa swept down the stairs right then, black dress flowing about her figure. She held herself gingerly, eyes two icy pools of hatred.

"I am ready, Mother," Narcissa spoke through clenched teeth.

Bellatrix turned and met Narcissa's eyes.

"SIRIUS IS DEAD!" Narcissa mouthed to her eldest sister, tears of angry frustration glittering behind her cool facade of indifference.

Druella ran her wand over Bellatrix, covering every last laceration and bruise.

"Do not forget what I've said," Druella warned ominously, motioning for Bellatrix to pocket the vial, which the girl did with disgust.

"Yes Mother." Bellatrix deadpanned, then preceded her sister out of the drawing room.

They made their way to King's Cross by Portkey, materializing in an alley near the station. Cygnus had sent along their trunks a minute before they arrived, and unfortunately, they'd have to lug them the rest of the way to the train, something Andromeda groaned about ceaselessly. It took a biting slap from Druella and a sharp word from Cygnus to shut her up. Bellatrix said nothing, and neither did Narcissa. Every so often, Bellatrix fingered the vial in her pocket, wondering what was in it.

When they finally walked into the station and to the appropriate barrier, Druella turned to face her daughters. She completely ignored Andromeda, choosing instead to glare at her eldest and youngest.

"Bellatrix, do not fail me," Druella reminded her eldest icily. Then her eyes flicked to Narcissa. "I hope your lesson stays with you. Destroy my glamour again, and both your sister and yourself will be punished."

Bellatrix tensed her shoulders, a current of unseen energy playing with her long black hair, making it rise slightly off her back. The uncontrolled surged of power was caused, of course, by her hatred for her parents, and Bellatrix did all she could to get her emotions under control, to make her hair lie flat again. She looked to where Narcissa stood, stalk-still, frosty eyes promising pain or humiliation. Bellatrix almost laughed when she imagined what Narcissa would do to their dear cousin Sirius. Aunt Wallburga was the loud, fussy type, preferring wordy insults, whereas Druella was silent and deadly, and Bellatrix wondered which woman Narcissa would favor in her choice of vengeance.

Druella ran her wand one last time over both girls, forced Narcissa to stand impossibly straighter eliciting a sharp wince, and motioned them through the barrier without another word.

"Come," Bellatrix muttered, leading Narcissa down the train, lugging her trunk.

"Hey, Trixie! Trixie, darling!" The voice sent a twinge of dread through Bellatrix.

Rodolphus Lestrange was broad-shouldered and tall, with dark eyes and dark hair. He had a brutal face, a fighter's face, but not an intellegent one, or even one classically attractive. His eyes were stones in his head, sparkling with cruel, lechurous desire, but not many cogs turned in his head. He stood at the door of a compartment full of Slytherins, including his brother Rabastan and a few pureblood girls including Morana Parkinson, the fussy little thing who'd managed to make shadow of Dolores Umbridge.

"Let me help you with those," he commanded, indicating the trunks Bellatrix and Narcissa were still holding. "Come on, Trixie. Your sister can sit here too, yeah? Lucius's in his second year, they're not that far in age, and he'd love her."

"No. We'll sit somewhere else. And the next time you call me Trixie, I'll castrate you," Bellatrix replied coldly and turned her back on him.

Narcissa glared at him for good measure, adding, "stay away from my sister, I might not be able to do magic yet, but I can still shove my wand where you'd like other things to go, and I can produce sparks to accompany." Narcissa smiled sweetly and followed Bellatrix.

"You remember stupid old Rodolphus Lestrange, don't you?" Bellatrix asked her sister.

She continued without waiting for an answer: "Well he's developed an… Interest in me. Those will be the purebloods in that compartment with him, but we aren't sitting there. They're boring, and besides, I want to get this stupid glamour spell off."

Bellatrix led her sister to the end of the train, where there was an almost-empty compartment. Its only occupant was a black-haired boy with a long, hooked nose. He sat by the window, reading a Potions book.

"Help me with these," Bellatrix demanded, and obediently, the boy rose and helped her lift the trunks into the overhead compartment.

"Now get out," she ordered, and once again, he obeyed.

Bellatrix reached into her trunk, producing her cloak. Sliding open the door, she stood on tiptoes and flung the black garment over the windowpanes in the door, covering them. Then, she took her wand from beneath her dress.

"They didn't hurt you before you left, did they?" she asked, softly.

Narcissa's face remained emotionless.

"Mother was livid over the Diagon Alley incident," Narcissa murmured, which was answer of in itself. "But Bella," she continued, "you heard what Mother said. I don't want her hurting you, Bella."

"She won't. Now where did they do it? I'm allowed to use magic, let me heal you." Bellatrix soothed.

"Finite incantatem," she said firmly, directing her wand at Narcissa, breaking apart the glamour around her sister. Then she began to mutter all the healing spells she knew, making the scars, both old and new, fade away. Her face became just as pristine and beautiful as it was with glamour, and Bellatrix turned her attention to the girl's arms, making the lacerations fade to jagged white scars, and then altogether away.

"If you want I can repair the damage on your back, too," Bellatrix offered, pulling away. "If not, I should probably call Severus back in here."

Narcissa's face paled in alarm, but a deep yearning also flashed across her features, before shame turned her pale face to scarlet.

"Bella-" Narcissa began before her voice cracked. "There's something you… They…" Narcissa couldn't speak around the lump of panic and hope lodged in her throat.

"What's wrong?" Bellatrix asked, fire glowing in her eyes, "Come here. What did they do?"

She wanted to grab her sister and make her tell, give her more reason to kill their parents, add to the storm of anger and hate that was building up inside her. But no, that wouldn't do. Narcissa was scared, and anyway, she'd reveal what they did in due time.

Narcissa shook her head with agonizing indecision and withdrew a Potions textbook, flashing Bellatrix a conflicted half-smile.

"Fine," Bellatrix sighed, reaching up and uncovering the windowpanes before continuing: "You'll tell me when you're ready."

A few hours passed in silence except for the occasional turning of a page. This suited Bellatrix just fine. She'd lived in silence, it seemed.

It shouldn't have been that way, Bellatrix knew. She'd gone off to Hogwarts, life should have been full of laughter and friends, as it was for Andromeda, but for Bellatrix it was filled with spells and potions and learning magic ahead of the class. It was midnight outings to the to the restricted section. And that was all right with her, she was moving one step closer to her freedom and that of her sister.

She never should have had anything to do with Severus Snape. He got in her way, but it was a small thing that initiated such a mutually beneficial alliance, and he asked so little of her that she let things stand as they would. She'd hex the Marauders if she caught them bothering him, and he'd fix her up after the duels that ensued. The only downside to this relationship was that it put her on the Marauders' hit-list, somewhere she was above being.

Oh yes, she missed her sister, but Bellatrix had learned the value of being alone and of being silent. So she sat, relishing the calm with her sister just there. They could make casual conversation if they wanted to, or they could just be there, together, studying their textbooks, or pretending to as they watched the countryside speed past.

When the shadows of late-afternoon stretched themselves out across the train, there came a banging at the compartment door. Severus hadn't returned, and Bellatrix assumed he was sitting elsewhere with his friend Lily and a few of her friends. The Marauders didn't wait for invitation, they barged in as though they owned the place.

"So, Bellabitch," James started, wand drawn, "you and your stupid sister Narcissus are going to get it now that I can use magic."

"Are we really?" Bellatrix asked with cool amusement, drawing her own wand and standing to face the Gryffindor boys.

"Yeah," Peter said boldly, "you gave my friend a black eye and I don't like that. Besides, you're ugly."

"And so are you," Bellatrix countered matter-of-factly, a wicked grin touching her lips. She paced the compartment, doing her best to keep Narcissa behind her as she prowled, wand raised in a combative manner. She was waiting for one of those idiots to make the first move. Then, she'd strike.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bellatrix glimpsed Narcissa closing her Potions book and standing with silent grace. Bellatrix gave Narcissa a look, but Narcissa's eyes flashed with something akin to cold fury.

"I'll bet you had a blast with those Death Eating whores," James taunted, wand aimed at Bellatrix's face.

"Oh, you know it," Bellatrix replied sardonically, staring James down. "It was the greatest."

Remus went to the door and watched out the windows. Peter and Sirius stood on either side of James. James faced Bellatrix squarely, muttering the first hex that came to mind: "Petrificus Totalus."

"Protego," Bellatrix countered, and the spells clashed in midair.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Peter shouted, and one of the trunks came flying at Narcissa.

Bellatrix tackled her sister, so that she hit the floor and it sailed over her head, hitting Remus hard, knocking the wind out of him. He sprawled out beside her.

"Expelliarmus," Bellatrix countered, and Peter's wand flew across the compartment.

"Stupify!" Sirius yelled, but Bellatrix dodged and the Stunning Spell hit the door, shattering one of its panes of glass. She was happy. A cold joy she'd only felt during the duels she'd participated in was pumping in her veins with every beat of her racing heart. She did all she could to keep the smile from her lips as she muttered a favorite spell, her foreplay so to speak: "Incarcerous!" Thick black rope spat from Bellatrix's wand, binding Peter's hands to his feet.

"Locomotor Mortis," Sirius shouted and Bellatrix was down, legs locked together.

"Damn!" she cursed. "Stupify!" She sent a jet of red light to Sirius.

But that left James free to do as he liked. He untied Peter, and he and Remus pulled him to his feet.

"Wait until the prefects hear about this!" James seethed.

Remus knelt next to Sirius and performed a quiet "Ennervate."

"They won't," Bellatrix said, smirking from her now fixed position in the middle of the compartment. James sneered and Sirius barked out a mocking laugh as he stood shakily.

"We'll report this to-" Peter began, but an icy voice cut him off.

"Drama does seem to suit you," Narcissa murmured as she stood over her sister's frozen form, "coming here to start a duel and crying when it doesn't yield the results you wished for." Narcissa tilted her head in mock acceptance. "It really is a shame that Bella took you on single-handedly and she still got three of you out in one form or another."

While the Marauders stood spluttering, Bellatrix smirked.

"She's quite right. Very clever girl, my sister. Now, Cissy. Be a dear and get Severus. He's ugly, you'll find him easily enough. Look for the nose," she said authoritatively but she gave Narcissa a look that clearly read: do-it-so-I-can-deal-with-these-Bastards-without-hurting-you.

Narcissa pressed her lips together but glided toward the door.

"What you gonna do Narcissus, get your cronies to come hex us?" James demanded. "For how many hours do they want to use you in exchange?"

"It would be a shame for them to ravish such a beauty," James continued in a baby voice, "so vain, always primping yourself just like that Narcissistic fool Narcissus, you know, the one who fell in love with himself and died trying to kiss his reflection?"

"You read?" Narcissa uttered with scathing incredulity as she tried unsuccessfully to restrain the fury boiling within. She drew back her hand, slapping James with all of her strength.

"Oi! Sirius yelled in anger, back-handing Narcissa with enough force to send her crashing into the door of the compartment. Stars swam in her vision as her head collided with glass, her body contorted at an awkward angle. But she smiled through the pain as she pictured James's face when her hand had made contact.

"So Bellabitch, you gonna finally surrender?" Sirius leered while James gingerly touched his face.

"No. I'm gonna hex you myself," Bellatrix emphasized the word "gonna", mimicking his London accent. Her voice was cold with fury as she glanced at Narcissa lying crumpled on the floor.

Bellatrix couldn't move her legs, but she could move her wand, and she did so, pointing it at Sirius and muttering "Petrificus totalus." She moved her wand to each Marauder in turn, furiously muttering the spell.

Then she turned to her sister and said, "Ennervate." Lowering her wand from the defensive stance she'd taken during the duel, and maintained although she was jinxed, Bellatrix asked, "are you all right?"

Narcissa stood up slowly, wincing slightly but holding herself with perfect posture. She reached for Bellatrix's wand, which was relinquished reluctantly.

"Finite incantatem," Narcissa intoned, remembering the theoretical instructions her DADA textbook had provided for erasing the last hex put on the target of that particular spell. She channeled her will through her sister's wand.

"Thank you," Bellatrix said gratefully, taking her wand before turning back to the Marauders and saying firmly: "Lacarnum Inflamare."

The boys exchanged looks of shock and horror as their clothes burst into blue flame. Bellatrix stood over them, pale face bathed in the eerie light of their burning, and smiled.

"See Narcissa? They call me Bellabitch for a reason. Now come on, let's get out of here. If the wrong people figure out it was me, I'll be expelled. And they won't tell, will you boys?" She grinned wickedly down at her victims.

"Reparo. Episkey." The first spell was aimed at the broken glass in the door, the second at her sister, healing any minor injuries the duel had caused her. Narcissa smiled sweetly as the Black sisters left the compartment. Bellatrix pointed her wand murmuring a spel, and their trunks floated after them. They would arrive at Hogwarts soon, and Narcissa knew that she needed to look like a perfect porcelain doll.

"Come," Bellatrix said, leading Narcissa down the train, "We'll sit with the purebloods. Don't mind Rodolphus, he's an idiot."

She steered Narcissa into the compartment, crowded with Slytherins. Rodolphus and Rabastan sat together in the corner seats attempting to arm wrestle. Dolores and Morana had evacuated themselves; they could be heard talking shrilly with Lorina Zabini and Zofia Nott one compartment down. Alecto Carrow sat near an empty seat, cleaning her nails with a small silver stiletto. Lucius Malfoy also sat there, in the empty seat nearest the door, across from Alecto, idly flipping through a transfigurations text. Bellatrix sat down next to Alecto with a huff and snatched the stiletto from the shorter girl's grasp. Alecto twirled a piece of her long brown hair around her finger in annoyance, but did nothing more than roll her eyes in fond exasperation.

"Guess who decided to pay us a visit?" Bellatrix announced loudly, to catch their attentions, a smirk twisting her mouth cruelly. As she began to tell the story with manic glee, Narcissa sat with an heir of wary politeness next to Lucius. She folded her hands neatly and sat with back straight, shoulders aligned, and Slytherin mask in place.

"Trixie, my love! That's cold, even for you. Setting three little twats on fire? Come off it, they're not worth your time. Only Snivellus would agree with your decision." Rodolphus chided.

"Shut it, Lestrange." Bellatrix sighed, leaning forward to press Alecto Carrow's steletto to his cheek, "I have my reasons, and it isn't the place of a bumbling squib with the intelligence of a golem to question me. Now be a dear and call the prefect, will you? We were the last compartment on the train. And if anyone asked, it was… Oh I don't know, pick someone whos name starts with an R." She turned away from him boredly then, tossing the knife back to Alecto, who nodded in thanks and went back to the arduous task of shaping and filing her fingernails.

"In all the confusion," a smooth voice beside Narcissa spoke up, "you never mentioned this lovely lady."

"Not you too, Lucie. Leave off her, or I swear I'll do you in just the same. She doesn't need… That," Bellatrix snapped.

As Bellatrix turned away from Rodolphus and started in on Lucius, she missed the younger Lestrange son's look. He looked to her with admiration, with fear, with longing perhaps?

"Defensive, aren't we, Trixie?" Lucius asked in cool amusement.

"Yeah, just a bit," Bellatrix spat back, "but I also know you spent every night of your first year playing a different girl in your year in some con or other and shattering their hearts behind you like a bull shatters china. And my sister isn't going to be one of your conquests."

Lucius's hand twitched but he did not provoke Bellatrix further. Instead, his gray eyes drank in the sight of Narcissa's pale but ethereal face and with a small smile curving one side of his mouth, he let his eyes linger.

Narcissa almost opened her mouth to insult Lucius for looking at her like… She wasn't sure. His eyes remained on her face, with no hint of lust or desire. Narcissa, not sure how to react, mirrored his half-smile.

"Good evening," Lucius said simply, but courteously, inclining his head to the girl beside him. "I do not believe we've met. I am Lucius Malfoy."

Narcissa lifted one of Lucius's hands and softly kissed his palm. "Narcissa Black," she murmured with a demure lilt to her voice. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine," he replied with a smile. "This is your first year at Hogwarts, I assume?"

Narcissa nodded in affirmation, then smirked slightly.

"Have you managed to rile Bella up?"

Lucius's reply was cut off when the door to the compartment was slid open and a kind-looking matron with a trolley of sweets stopped in the doorway.

"I apologize for being so late Dears, would you lot like anything off of the trolley?"

Immediately, Rodolphus and Rabastan hurried over with handfuls of coins, although Rabastan held himself with much more dignity and much less grumbling about punctuality.

"Want anything Trixie?" Rodolphus asked.

"Don't call me Trixie," came the brusque reply. Rodolphus just smirked with a licking his lips hungrily. Rabastan elbowed Rodolphus in the ribs.

"Do you want anything Bellatrix?" Rabastan questioned the girl more civilly. Bellatrix smirked and tossed a few galleons in his general direction before resuming her conversation with Alecto.

"Would you like anything?" Lucius asked Narcissa with a slight raising of an eyebrow. He smiled and withdrew a pouch of coins from his robes. Narcissa bit her lip in a very unladylike fashion. She looked like a child just then, young and innocent. On one hand, she really would love chocolate, or something else from ow trolley that she'd never seen before. But on the other, if Cygnus and Druella found out…

"Come on Cissy," Bellatrix sighed, "he's buying, he doesn't offer many girls that, especially on sweets."

Narcissa looked torn. "But Mother and Father-" she began but Bellatrix held up a hand.

"Cissy, they're not here," Bellatrix stated harshly, "they can't rule your life forever."

Bellatrix's eyes softened as Narcissa slumped her shoulders. Narcissa then remembered their present company and with a blush staining her cheeks, she sat straight again.

She hadn't noticed that Lucius had vacated his seat until she heard the door shut and Lucius sat back down next to her, laying a variety of packages in her lap. Narcissa opened her mouth, then shut it again. She covered up her surprised but shy happiness by inspecting a box of Bertie Bots Every-Flavored Bean.

The door was roughly banged open and the Marauders, minus Remus, stood there, wands out.

Peter opened his mouth to say something but the train began to slow, signaling their arrival.

Rodolphus and Rabastan shoved them out of the compartment, while Bellatrix locked the door. The Marauders would be slinking off to their own compartment to frantically throw on their robes at this point.

"Quick, Narcissa. Into your robes," Bellatrix said, diving for her own trunk to hurry into hers.

The other Slytherins rushed around to do the same. It seemed everyone on the train was rushing here and there, throwing on robes over clothes, fussing with hair, fiddling with cloaks, adjusting pointed hats.

Narcissa ran a brush through her blonde tresses and flicked a piece of invisible lint off of her black robes before following Bellatrix out of the compartment. She briefly touched the serpent amulet around her neck for luck and slowed to walk next to Lucius.

"Firs' years, fers years! Over here!" A huge form stood on the platform at Hogsmeade, holding a lamp, glowing golden.

Bellatrix grabbed Narcissa by the wrist, pulling her off to the side, whispering quickly into her sister's ear: "Go with the giant. He's not very pleasant, but that's where the first years are going, and right now you have to be a part of them. He'll take you in a boat, through the front doors and into a chamber off the Great Hall, and after that, you'll be sorted. Mother didn't tell you this, so I will: I want the Gryffindors fighting for me, the Ravenclaws doing my homework and the Hufflepuffs keeping my secrets. It's not like they'll tell. So no matter what house you end up in, you'll still be my favorite sister and I'll still love you." And with that, Bellatrix shoved her sister away, toward the giant with the lamp.

Narcissa glanced back at the knot of Slytherins to see Bellatrix smirking and Lucius's half-smile. Then she walked hurriedly to catch up to the others.

Narcissa ended up seated in a boat with Zofia Nott (the sister of sixth year Alexander Nott), the Italian girl Lorina Zabini, and Dahlia Greengrass, who also had a brother in an upper year. Narcissa found them to be quite well-mannered company; Zofia was quiet and studious, Dahlia sarcastic but friendly, and Lorina seemed to be a miniature Bellatrix, tossing her black mane of curls with a flirtatiously lethal heir.

"What house do you think you'll be put in?" Dahlia asked, shifting uncomfortably as the boat skimmed smoothly over the dark water of the lake.

"Slytherin," Narcissa and the others chorused. Zofia smiled slightly as she added: "My parents told me they would be just as proud if I were put in Ravenclaw, though."

Lorina held up a guilded mirror and began to apply blood-red lipstick.

"You lot aren't half bad," Lorina managed, trying not to smudge her lips. "I'd avoid Parkinson and Umbridge though, Zoe and I were stuck with them on the train. They're horrible." Lorina's pretty face twisted with disdain.

"Don't call me Zoe," Zofia protested half-heartedly. Narcissa and Dahlia giggled.

"Bella thinks that Umbridge's father was a toad," Narcissa put in. "And Morana is so empty headed, if Crabbe were to ask her out, she might actually say yes. But Umbridge likes her because she's rich."

"That's true enough," Dahlia sniffed, "Such a Dunderheaded marrage Crabbe and Parkinson would make."

The occupants of the boat broke out into tinkling laughter. The four girls gave each other genuine smiles. Narcissa hoped that she would have them for allies, and better yet, best friends.

"Duck," Narcissa heard the command from Hagrid's boat which was leading the others. The girls did as requested, and after a smooth, short voyage, they found themselves in an underground harbor.

"Everyone out," Hagrid shouted, and led them up an incline of rocks and pebbles, and onto the grassy lawn from which they looked up at the castle.

"I reckon he lives for this," Lorina whispered, "telling everyone what to do. He's just a servant I heard."

Narcissa daintily covered her mouth with an embroidered handkerchief as to muffle her amusement.

"Narcissa, where does your sister buy her nail polish?" Lorina questioned with a smirk. "I tried to find it, but they don't have that exact shade of blood I want at La Angelo Caduto back in Italy. There was a picture of it in this magazine my mother reads, though."

Dahlia giggled again, and Zofia rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I'm sure I could Bella to get you some," Narcissa replied laughing slightly. Bellatrix would like Lorina, no doubt about it.

As they reached the castle, Hagrid knocked on the oak doors three times with his large fist. The door was flung open and there stood an older witch wearing her black hair in a severe bun, and a stern expression adorning her face. Her eyes scanned over to Narcissa, Zofia, Dahlia ed Lorina, and a look of disapproval flashed across her features, one that didn't seem to find the other first-years.

"Thank you, Hagrid," the witch said to the giant curtly, "first years, follow me. I am Professor McGonogall transfigurations professor and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts."

As she lectured them about houses and such, Narcissa studied her new friends. All of their eyes met, and a smirk of promise circulated between the four girls, who were paying no attention at all.

The talking hat barely phased Narcissa and her little group, but most of the other first-years jumped when it began to sing. Then, Professor McGonogall began reading names off of a roll of parchment.

Narcissa paid little attention until: "Black, Narcissa."

Whispers followed Narcissa as she glided up to the stool with the mannerisms of a pureblood twice her senior. ("is that Bellabitch's sister? Do you think she'll be as mean?" they wanted to know.) She glimpsed Zofia's smile, Dahlia's slight wave, and Lorina's hair flip before the hat fell over her eyes.

"Loyal… Very loyal… And brave too, not a bad mind, quite studious… But so much ambition! A need to prove yourself! You want to share a bond with friends who understand. You want to live up to your sister's expectations. Perfection is your biggest weakness, you are afraid of being too fat, too dumb, too insignificant. Better be SLYTHERIN!"

Bellatrix smirked, as though she'd never had any doubts, and shoved Lucius aside to make room for her sister between them. Narcissa looked a little shaken by what the hat had said but smiled with a relieved sigh. One by one, she watched Dahlia, Zofia, and Lorina each get sorted into Slytherin. They slid into the seats across from her, smiling excitedly.

"You've made some good allies," Bellatrix complimented with a smirk toward the three girls. Lorina smirked back.

"What do you want," Lorina hissed, brown eyes fixed on a point over Narcissa's shoulder. Narcissa turned.

"So Narcissus," Sirius sneered, "proud to be among the slimy snakes?"

"Leave her alone," Bellatrix spat venomously, one long-fingered hand reaching for her wand as food suddenly appeared on the golden plates and drink flowed into the equally gold pitchers on the tables. Other students were beginning to give Sirius odd looks, but he seemed not to notice.

"Yes Mutt," Lorina scoffed. Zofia twirled a piece of pasta around her fork, but looked like she would rather gouge Sirius's eyes out with the metal utensil. Dahlia idly played with a piece of her blonde hair, but her green eyes promised murder. Narcissa looked at her house mates, and smiled as Sirius slunk away like the dog he was, so as to avoid being in trouble.


	4. Prelude

Toujours Pur

A/N: Should we apologize for taking so long to update? In a show of cliché respect, it's probably an unspoken but demanded formality. However, since when have we lived by Society's rules with an iron fist? Excuse us Dear Reader, we can be cynical and sharp-tongued. Do continue reading these words with tender fingertips or, scanning this flawed print with the coagulated orbs you call eyes. We do not, however, beg this of you, in we have never begged in our lives, by all means walk away if you wish. Striving to please society only brings more expectation and yields no prosperity and quite a lot of unhappiness. Although, one half of us is rather curious what you think of the prelude, as she herself isn't happy with it, so if you'd like to review, by all means do so now.

-Helenia Rowan-

IV: Prelude

Albus Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd gained when first teaching. His blue eyes flicked around the Great Hall, trying to find something that would put his mind at rest. He'd just witnessed what had happened, and his eyes rested briefly upon Sirius who was slouching back to the Gryffindor table, glaring at the Slytherins, who all returned his animosity with equal verocity. The headmaster sighed, making a mental note to talk to Sirius and make sure that the lad was all right. He couldn't imagine what having another Black attend Hogwarts would mean for the other students and staff, and while Narcissa was not as vicious and fiery as her eldest sister, or as mischievous and rebellious as Sirius, she was still potentially dangerous, and a Slytherin which put her closer to her elder sister. Maybe she would help to calm Bellatrix?

Worry twisted throughout Dumbledore's stomach as he watched Narcissa and three other girls smirking and looking to Bellatrix as if for approval. That could not be a good sign.

It was no secret that Bellatrix was interested in some rather troubling things, including the effects of certain hexes and curses that Hogwarts had never taught and a spell for "splitting" as she called it in hushed tones, something Dumbledore couldn't say he was best pleased about.

"Now," He heard her predatory whisper resonating with the promise of pain as he'd strolled nearer. He saw again how she shoved Dolores Umbridge against a wall, looking into her eyes with something akin to seduction, "if you don't stop carrying on like a withered old harpy about my sisters and your foul thoughts of them, I'll split you. I don't take to insults very well. Understand, darling?" She spoke the last word in little more than a whisper, and her wand found its way back into her robes so the long, sharp nails of that hand could dig into the soft skin of her face.

"Sp-sp-split me?" Dolores stammered, trying to keep the whimper from her voice.

"Yes," Bellatrix had replied coolly, a cold smile Dumbledore knew well curling her crimson-painted lips, "I'm going to take your soul and I'm going to tear it in pieces to leave you shambling around the school just because I can, and because I want to see the looks on your filthy parents' faces when all they get this summer is a zombie."

Dumbledore went silently away after that. He ought to have done something, but Dumbledore preferred to let the students settle their differences themselves, and besides, no one was hurt, despite what Bellatrix had promised. He'd known that smile, although he'd only ever seen it on a decidedly masculine face. It was Tom's smile, the one that meant things would be taking a darker turn than planned. "Splitting" too, that was familiar, although Bellatrix Black had reversed the idea. That was Dumbledore's only consolation, because if someone like Bellatrix Black were to get her hands on the knowledge to make Horcruxes… Well, he'd only seen her like once before, and that boy was now gathering followers and power at an astounding rate, running under the name Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore covertly turned his attention back to Narcissa Black, the golden-haired, blue-eyed sister to Bellatrix. She looked a deal more innocent than her elder sister, and nothing like any of the Blacks before her. If Dumbledore didn't know better, he'd almost say she was a Malfoy. He could see the resemblance between her and her sisters, however, when she smirked at something told to her. Suddenly, her beauty was less innocent and more coldly attractive, her mask of indifference in placce, cold humor rippling over the surface of it.

He'd had the privilege, if it could be called so, of knowing both her parents, and he'd seen the scars Bellatrix brought with her to Hogwarts. He'd known where they'd come from, although the girl had denied it. It was no wonder that Narcissa could hide her inner workings so well. That, he decided as he took a sip of pumpkin juice, was more dangerous than her sister's outwardly-shown violence, because there was no way to be certain the same fire was not reflected inwardly with the other girl.

Dumbledore stood as the last of the prefects led their houses out of the Great Hall. He noted that Bellatrix was sauntering between Alecto Carrow and Alecto's twin Amycus. Behind her, Narcissa walked with perfect posture, flanked on both sides by Zofia Nott and Dahlia Greengrass. Lorina Zabini walked slightly behind them, dark eyes keeping watch as a guard might. Dumbledore massaged his temples as the Great Hall became empty, save his teaching staff. He knew that they needed to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor soon, he could not teach the classes on top of being the Headmaster.

He almost wanted to find the letter he'd stowed in his desk, from years ago, from Voldemort. Voldemort was more than capable of teaching the students to defend themselves, but he was too interested in the Dark Arts themselves. In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. That boy in the orphanage had been a whirlwind of violence, stealing childrens' toys just because he could and because he was cruel. Dumbledore couldn't stop wondering; would things have changed if only he'd looked more into Tom's home life? Could he have prevented Voldemort, the idea of a dark wizard that wanted to take the world for himself, if only he'd mentored Tom Riddle and taught him differently?

Dumbledore wasn't sure why he was surprised that Tom had become what he had, but he was. He'd hoped the boy could rise above his beginning, shed the cruelty and don goodness in its place. Now, he thought ruefully, he knew he'd been naíve.

"Albus, we need a DADA professor," Minerva stated, worry creasing her eyebrows and adding to her already severe countenance.

"I am aware, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed, "but no one needs the job, apparently. That it's jinxed has bethe most popular reason for this."

"That's ridiculous." McGonagall said, pursing her lips. Dumbledore knew perfectly well that she didn't believe in a position itself being cursed; that was too close to a Muggle's perception of magic to seem accurate to her. Usually, Dumbledore thought the same, but in the matter of the DADA job, he wasn't so sure. No one wanted it, and those that had been desperate enough to take it only lasted a year.

Only two individuals had submitted applications, and Dumbledore was not comfortable with either posing as the professor. One was a vampire by the name of Sanguini, and the other, Cygnus Black. Dumbledore could only assume that the latter submission had been on orders of Lord Voldemort. He could imagine the look on Bellatrix and Narcissa's faces if they ever found out that their father would be teaching at Hogwarts. Somehow, he could not see them smiling.

"Al-Albus?"

Dumbledore blinked as he heard Minerva's voice speak questioningly. He looked up, drawn from his musings to see Pomona, Fillius, and Horace, all staring at him with varying degrees of concern.

"Are you all right?" Minerva stood from her seat. "I can finish here, you should go rest."

Dumbledore smiled in fond exasperation as the normally reserved professor put a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly turning him toward the door.

"I think I shall," he murmured, exiting with a quiet farewell and a swish of polka-dotted robes. He trusted Minerva to take care of everything, but guilt wormed it's way through his stomach (as a tapeworm might), as he thought about the load she was carrying on top of her teaching duties.

As Dumbledore walked up flights of stairs and down winding corridors toward his quarters, the letter and two applications burned throughout his mind, flames of confliction and indecision ravaging any sensibility that had been tethering his insecurity.


End file.
